Land and the Sea: The Fight for Paris
by AleahDani
Summary: After the death of his mother, Jim Hawkins is forced to live in the bell tower with Quasimodo. He dreams about avenging his mother's death, but before he can figure out how to make that happen, something supernatural occurs and he meets Ariel. Can he keep her and Quasi safe while he tries to avenge his mom? And who else will he meet on his journey?
1. Chapter 1

He shook his head, his trident spearing the discarded clothing. It appeared to be a woman's frock of some kind and had been a purple at one time; now, however, the sea had drained the dye and it was now a muddled grey. One could only guess how long it had been lazing about on the ocean floor.

King Triton raised his head and gazed at the waste that spread out before him. Garments, broken pottery, statues, and human excrement…It all could be found here, brought to him via the canals of Paris.

This spot had once been home to Athena's mother, a time-worn mermaid who had one of the kindest smiles Triton had ever seen. She always had music playing in her grotto and the shelves were filled with fantastical items: a war-horn from the mer-city of Lyati; a rare purple scale said to belong to the world's last sea serpent; the fossils of sea creatures long since passed.

They used to bring the girls here every summer and Triton remembered how their eyes would light up at the prospect of seeing Grandma again. Attina would race to the exotic book collection; Aquata and Arista would fight each other to get to their grandmother's jewelry cabinet, filled with sparkling rubies and giant emeralds; Adrina, Adella, and Alana would whirl through the door and dance to the music; and his little Ariel would drift lazily through the grotto, examining everything with a critical eye.

Now, he could see the entrance to the old place and he shuttered at the entrance's disrepair. Trash of every imaginable sort covered the door; if he had not known the grotto was there, he would have dismissed it as a pile of garbage and continued on.

"What have they done to you?" he whispered, swimming carefully over the waste.

It took some work, but he finally managed to clear the entrance. Taking a deep breath, he shouldered his way inside.

All of the treasures were still there, but they were in horrible disrepair. They had reacted badly to the refuse that had drifted in through the sky-light. Mermish pottery had been cracked and filled to the brim with the humans' foul stench; more than a few items had been knocked to the floor. No music emanated from the walls of the place; his daughters' giggles and his mother-in-law's ancient tones did not fill the cave with life.

Only the jewelry, locked away tight in their cabinet, remained untouched. Triton stopped for a moment, his eyes locked on the tiara Athena had worn at their wedding, the bright stones still shining as much as they did on their wedding day.

He missed her. He missed this place. He missed his mother-in-law.

_And these humans,_ he reflected angrily, _are the ones who caused this._

Not only was his wife murdered by the barbarians, but his mother-in-law, too, had been captured by their nets. His informants told him that she had not lasted long; the way they treated her expedited her demise.

And now that he had lost both of them, those humans tainted his happy memories and had no issue turning his mother-in-law's abode into a disposal factory!

He clenched his teeth and gripped his trident. He did not appreciate the way they mocked his pain and tore his people apart; he did not like that more and more of their waters were becoming polluted and had to be evacuated.

Something had to be done.

Ariel shut the grotto door behind her, giggling at Flounder's impersonation of a shark.

"He was just like—GRRRR!—" Flounder gnashed his teeth. "And then I was like, "You big bully!" and then—well, Scuttle he—"

"Scuttle!" Ariel interrupted, clapping a hand to her forehead. "We forgot to see Scuttle! Maybe if we hurry, we can get to him before he goes fishing in the shallows—"

"Uh-uh." Flounder said, shaking his head. "Your dad will be home soon and if he catches us—"

"Alright, alright!" Ariel said, tickling Flounder's fins. "We'll see him tomorrow."

Flounder sighed in relief before saying good night and swimming away. Ariel smiled and waved. She had one last errand before she could go to bed, too.

Her father was swimming back and forth in the throne room, the trident buzzing an angry red in his hands.

That was never a good sign.

"Daddy?" Ariel called softly, swimming cautiously towards her father. "Is everything alright? How did the visit go?"

"They destroyed her! They mutilated her!" Triton growled, seemingly unaware of Ariel's presence. She hesitated, wanting to put her hand on his shoulder and comfort him, but she withdrew. It was best, she reasoned, not to chance anything while he was in this mood.

"Those humans! Those barbarians!" he growled.

Ariel couldn't help herself.

"Daddy, they're not barbarians!" she protested; at last, her father turned towards her, finally registering her presence.

"They're filthy: the lot of them!" he yelled. "Most of your grandmother's treasures were ruined and decaying when I got there and it's their fault! All of this toxicity they have dumped into our oceans! I've had it! It's time they paid for their actions!"

The trident was an unholy red now and Ariel knew that that meant that her father had entered a point of no return. Desperate for any chance to stop him from resorting to violence, she leapt forward and tried to tear the trident from his hands.

"You can't hurt them!" Ariel shrieked, her hands burning against the heat of the trident.

Her father's eyes flashed red.

"They're barbarians!" he yelled. "They poison our waters with their waste and they ensnare our own! How can you still defend them?"

"Because not all of them are doing this!" Ariel screeched, her eyes wide in fear. "Even though some of them poison our waters, others try to negate it and make our home clean again!"

With a forceful grunt, King Triton shook Ariel off of his trident. She hit the grotto wall hard, her head snapping against one of the shelves.

This wasn't how this argument was supposed to go, Ariel thought to herself. She was supposed to be able to calm him down and they could work on a more rational plan to get rid of the waste. Now, it just seemed that he was hell-bent on all-out war.

"I didn't want to do this," he said, his voice dangerously low. "but if this is the only way they'll understand…then so be it."

"What are you doing?" Ariel asked hazily.

"Giving them back their toxins." He grumbled.

Ariel's head pounded from the hit and her vision was blurred. She struggled to get up off of the floor and to keep fighting, but she knew that all was lost. She watched, her heart beating slowly and painfully, as her father left her and headed towards Paris.

Everything went black.

Jim stood in front of a booth, eyeing the fruit hungrily.

"How much for three apples?" he asked.

"Quatorze guilders." The merchant, a rather large man with an equally large boil on his eyebrow, replied.

"You can't be serious." Jim said exasperatedly. "They aren't even ripe! They're worth four guilders, at the _most."_

"You insult me, boy! My pommes are the sweetest and best in the land!"

"Well, you can take your precious _pommes _and shove them up your—" Jim muttered, but before he could finish his thought, Quasimodo bumped into him, his shirt pulled over his head.

"Oh, are you here to insult my fruit as well?" the merchant roared; Quasimodo lowered his head bashfully.

"No, sir, of course not, sir. How much did you say it was again?"

"Fourteen guilders for _two _pommes." The merchant said smugly.

"You just said that that was the price for _three_ apples!" Jim exclaimed.

"I take away one product for rude little boy." The merchant replied nonchalantly.

"You can't—" Jim began, but once again, Quasimodo cut him off.

"Of course, sir, here's the money."

Jim shot Quasimodo a glare as they walked away. Quasimodo, on the other hand, kept his gaze fixed on the cobblestones beneath his feet. He was mumbling something under his breath that Jim couldn't quite catch. Sighing, Jim handed him one of the apples.

"Here," Jim said. "Tell me if this is worth seven guilders."

Quasi smiled as he took the fruit and bit into it. When he offered up no complaint, Jim let out a little "humph" and began to study his surroundings. He loved the architecture here in Paris; the gothic rises and the moody stone spirals fascinated him. He looked back down after he caught sight of a gargoyle with its fangs bared, however. He wasn't much of a fan of those.

People bustled all around them, one brunette girl accidentally bumping into Quasimodo because her face was buried in a book.

"Sorry!" She called over her shoulder; Quasimodo smiled in reply.

"She was pretty." He told Jim, his gaze fixated on her retreating figure.

Jim nodded.

"She's not really my type, though." He said, shrugging.

"You live in a bell tower, you can't _afford _a type." Quasimodo joked. Jim snorted in agreement.

All of a sudden, the ground began to tremble. The merchants' fare fell into the streets and Jim hurriedly scooped up two bouncing apples, grinning widely.

"You do exist." He said, looking up at the clouds.

"Jim! This is serious!" Quasimodo yelled, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"The canals!" A rather obese woman screamed next to them. "The canals are flooding Paris!"

Water rose from the canals, causing people to scream and run in all directions. Quasimodo gripped Jim's arm in fear. Jim flinched slightly from his touch, but he didn't shove Quasi away, as he normally would have.

"This is the end." Quasimodo whispered.

The waves had risen to impossible heights now, but they weren't falling down on the people. It was as if they had frozen or merely been seeking to form a wall.

"We've got to get to high ground." Jim said, his eyes not leaving the suspended tidal waves.

But as he and Quasimodo began to run back to their bell tower, a beautiful voice pierced the air:

_Unto death, life has sprung,_

_Bringing with it the morning sun,_

_All arise and all awake,_

_You shall see another day._

The waves, so impossibly high before, began to dwindle and collapse in on themselves. Jim stopped and looked at the waves and thought he saw glimmers of red and green at their height. Whoever—or whatever—was made of those colors was what the voice was coming from. Before he could even think, Jim reversed his direction and ran towards the waves.

It wasn't until Quasimodo made it back to the bell tower that he realized his friend was no longer with him. Frightened, Quasimodo called out Jim's name, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to hear him. He hung his head, believing in his heart that his friend was doomed.

Jim's boots slipped on the cobblestones as a soft mist emanated from the waves and fell over Paris. He could make out the green glimmer—it was some sort of tail—but he still could not quite figure out the red one. But as he grew closer, he began to realize exactly what he was seeing. Soft pigments of skin began to appear and when he got to within fifteen feet of the wave, he was sure he was seeing things.

_A mermaid._

Not just any mermaid: a beautiful one, with bright red hair that fell just past the small of her back. Her voice was ringing in his ears and he watched in amazement as the waves receded back another five feet.

"Take away her voice! Quickly!" A voice yelled from the middle of the wave. A brand of yellow light shot from the center and illuminated briefly what the water concealed: a merman and some sort of half-octopus, half-woman. The light was coming from the octopus' hands and it soon enveloped the pretty mermaid.

"No!" Jim found himself yelling. "Leave her alone!"

He darted into the water, only to rise to the mermaid's level because of the waves' momentum. He put his arm fearlessly into the light and grabbed what he hoped was the poor girl's shoulder. He could hear the merman's deep roar of anger.

"Let her go, human!"

"NO!" Jim yelled back, jets of water beating against his skin. "I won't let you hurt her!"

There was silence as Jim pulled the mermaid from the light. Her eyes were closing and her entire body was beginning to go limp. The light that had surrounded her vanished back into the octopus' hands.

"Well this will raise the value of this old necklace." The octopus said, her voice harsh yet oddly…seductive.

"Don't sell the seashell, Ursula." The merman said. Using his trident, he collapsed the water the rest of the way, forcing Jim and the unconscious mermaid deep into the canal. Jim's eyes widened as he swam to the surface, laboriously carrying the little mermaid with him.

When he pulled her onto the bank, an old man with a golden crown raised his head from the depths. He pointed his trident at the mermaid and ignored Jim's feeble protests.

"I didn't mean to hurt her." He said sadly. "Just to make her understand. Perhaps she is safer here than with me."

Jim watched as bright yellow light spilled from the tip of the trident and turned the mermaid's fins into legs. Jim turned his head in embarrassment.

"Hey buddy, you forgot to give her—" he began, but the merman had already disappeared.

"—clothes." He finished, blushing. He glanced once more at Ariel before realizing what he was going to have to do.

"You're lucky you're pretty." Jim snarled.

Jim tore off his shirt and pants, wearing nothing but his boxers. Growling and cursing under his breath, he haphazardly clothed the girl before picking her up.

"Let's hope everyone's still hiding." He muttered to himself.

He ran as fast as he could through Paris and he was indeed lucky: everyone was still hiding in their homes.

"You're lucky I'm not mean and just gave you the shirt." Jim spat at the unconscious girl, unsure of why he was being so rude, but unable to stop himself. "They still would have seen EVERYTHING."

The street was littered with the day's fare: apples, cabbages, and homemade goods that had been trampled on and practically demolished by the panicked crowds. Jim stopped to catch his breath near a clothing stand and was surprised to find two dresses completely untouched. One was pink with a frilly collar and cuffs and the other was a beautiful blue day dress that came with a blue bow. He swiped them, dumped them unceremoniously on the girl in his arms, and kept running.

Twenty minutes later, he was bounding up the last steps to the tower. He stopped at the top, panting heavily.

"Never again," he muttered under his breath, glaring back down at the stone steps.

After a couple more moments, he entered the bell tower and made a beeline straight for his cot.

The girl stirred as Jim placed her gently in his bed.

"Hey," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay; you're safe now. You can sleep here."

The girl nodded and pointed at her throat.

"I couldn't get your voice." Jim bowed his head. "I was more focused on getting _you_ out of there."

The girl nodded again before mouthing:

'Can you read lips?'

"Believe it or not, yes." Jim said, giving her a rare smile. "I knew a kid once who couldn't speak, but over the years I began to understand what he was trying to say. So I can understand you just fine."

'Will you tell me what happened tomorrow?' she asked, her eyes beginning to close again. 'I feel…weak.'

Jim grabbed her hand and held it to his heart.

"I promise."

"So what's the story behind this?" Quasimodo asked.

The boys were sitting at a pockmarked wooden table, looking worriedly at the resting Ariel.

Jim ran his fingers through his hair.

"Man, I don't know." He said. "I-I found her during the—whatever the hell you call it—and I brought her back here. She can't speak and she doesn't have anywhere to go. She has to stay here."

"She can't stay here!" Quasimodo argued, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. "If Master finds her—"

"He won't." Jim interjected. "We'll stash her somewhere he can't find her."

_"'Stash her'?"_ Quasimodo repeated incredulously. "This is a human being we're talking about, Jim, not one of your inventions!"

"You know what I meant!" Jim hissed.

"Yeah, yeah…" Quasimodo said, his head resting on one hand while he gestured grandly with the other. "But we have to move her soon, Master is coming in today—"

"—he comes in _every_ day—"

"Don't get sassy with me." Quasimodo huffed. He put his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Jim asked, his expression blank.

"I'm getting the table ready." Quasimodo said. "He'll be here soon. Hide her somewhere."


	2. Chapter 2

"And this is-?" Frollo asked wearily.

"Pocahontas." The prisoner said bravely, struggling slightly against the men who held her.

"You are not authorized to speak out of turn." Frollo hissed, his cold grey eyes boring into Pocahontas' warm dark ones.

"And you have no authorization over me." She said boldly.

The courtroom grew silent as Frollo fidgeted uncomfortably in his throne-like chair. However, his unease was only temporary, because when he spoke, it was with the cold iron his reputation was built on.

"You are in Paris and therefore under my legislation." He said nonchalantly. "You have been arrested on suspicion of fraternizing with thieving gypsies. Now, either you tell me how to find them and rid Paris of them once and for all or I shall have to use other means to extract the information from you."

"You might as well kill me." Pocahontas said, her voice frighteningly calm. "I will not betray my friends."

Frollo waved his hand dismissively at her.

"Very well, take her below." He ordered. He rubbed his eyes before addressing his new Captain of the Guard, a blonde soldier named Phoebus.

"Are there any other miscreants to deal with today?" he asked. Phoebus shook his head.

"None, sir." He said robotically. Frollo smiled.

"Good. I'm afraid I have an appointment with the bell ringers, so I won't be able to stick around. Do me a favor and see to it that this Native American girl gives us the information. We can't proceed without it."

"Yes, sir."

Frollo nodded in satisfaction before leaving the courtroom.

It was time to pay Jim and Quasimodo a visit.

Jim paced the room, dodging nimbly around the statue of Aphrodite. As he spoke, Quasimodo hurriedly set the table, anxious for his master's return.

"Okay, I've hidden her up in the beams near the bells, he shouldn't be able to see her from down here and he's got no reason to climb up there—"

"I don't know if he could even if he wanted to." Quasimodo said hesitantly. "That's what he's got us for."

"Right." Jim nodded.

"I've already dried up any water that we tracked in here." Jim continued. "There's absolutely no reason that he should know that I took you to market today."

"That was really risky." Quasimodo said, smiling. "If we don't get caught, you'll still take me to the Festival of Fools, right?"

Jim stopped and looked at Quasimodo.

"Of course." He said slowly. "I made a promise, didn't I?"

Quasimodo nodded and then froze when he heard footsteps on the stairwell.

"And what are we whispering about?" Frollo asked, eyebrows raised. Jim and Quasimodo both shrugged non-committedly.

"I see." Frollo said softly. "Mr. Hawkins, please put a shirt on, you are not an animal."

Ariel peeked down at the boys and this new—and much older—human. She did not like his features much; everything about him was sharp and slender and jagged. He spoke in cruel tones and his smile felt unstable and insincere. She adjusted Jim's shirt around her uncomfortably. This was the only shirt that he had—that she knew of anyway—and she didn't want to have to take it off. It was the only thing giving her any sense of comfort at the moment.

"It's way too hot to be bothered with a shirt." Jim said nonchalantly.

"I will excuse it this time, Mr. Hawkins." Frollo said. "But I expect you to be clothed in the proper attire on my next visit. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Jim said, waving him off. "I'll be sure to do that."

Jim sat down next to Quasimodo and dropped some grapes heavily onto his plate. Ariel blinked and squinted at this strange food. They had nothing like it back home. She edged closer to the edge of the beam as the men below her ate in virtual silence. She had made it to a corner beam before they spoke again

"It is time to review your alphabet." Frollo said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. Jim rolled his eyes, but Quasimodo grinned.

"A?"

"Absolved!" Quasimodo said eagerly.

"Anal." Jim muttered under his breath. Quasimodo shot him a warning glance, but it seemed that Frollo had not heard him.

"B?"

"Blasphemy!" Quasimodo said. He looked at Jim, waiting for his answer, but Jim remained silent. Ariel was practically pulling her hair out. Some of these words were foreign to her and she felt stupid for not understanding them.

"C?"

Quasimodo hesitated. He knew this, he had to! What could C stand for? He couldn't believe he'd forgotten; he'd been working so hard…

"Cock." Jim said, smiling crookedly.

Frollo spit out his wine.

"How dare you speak such filth in the house of God!" Frollo spat.

"Ah, he won't mind, he's never here anyways." Jim replied. "Besides, it's just the name of a rooster. Calm down."

"Jim!" Quasimodo gasped.

"You little heathen!" Frollo cursed, jumping to his feet. "He is in everything and He is everywhere! How dare you defile Him!"

"If he is everywhere, then he would have kept you from killing my mother." Jim growled. Ariel bit her lip. She had had no idea that Jim had lost a mother too.

There was a taut silence that seemed to stretch on for years and years. Finally, Frollo turned to Quasimodo and smiled kindly.

"I'm glad that you have been taking your studies seriously, Quasimodo." He said. "But I'm afraid I am going to have to leave a little earlier than planned."

"I understand, Master." Quasimodo said, bowing his head.

"You've got to be kidding me." Jim mumbled. He stood up and climbed up into the rafters.

Frollo sighed and shook his head.

"Until tomorrow, then."

Once Frollo had left, Quasimodo climbed into the rafters after Jim, dodging the bells as he did so.

He found him sitting on a beam next to Ariel, their legs dangling over the ledge. To Quasimodo's surprise, neither of them was talking to each other. Hell, they weren't even looking at each other.

"What did I miss?" he asked cautiously, sitting next to Jim.

"Nothing." Jim shrugged. "I just sat down."

Ariel tugged on Jim's rattail gently. Quasimodo suddenly became aware of the fact that she was wearing one of Jim's older shirts and nothing else. He looked away quickly.

"What?" Jim asked, sounding mildly annoyed. His demeanor changed however, when Ariel mouthed something at him. He nodded and stood carefully on the beam, before reaching out for Ariel's hand.

"What are you two doing?" Quasimodo asked, sending a quick glance back at them.

"She's afraid of heights and can't get down." Jim answered. "And would you stop acting so shy, she's covered."

"Why isn't she wearing one of those dresses you stole for her?"

"Because she just woke up and didn't want to sleep in them."

"Okay, well—hey, wait!" Quasimodo cried out, finally turning back around. Jim was holding Ariel bridal-style now and was edging his way further down the beam.

"What?" Jim snapped, carefully avoiding a knot in the wood. Ariel's arms tightened around his neck.

"She had your pants on before!"

"Yeah well, I needed them. Can't go meeting Frollo in my jollies, right?"

"Why not? You ran through Paris in your _jollies."_ Quasi mumbled.

Jim ignored him, choosing instead to put Ariel gently back on her feet. She looked at him, puzzled.

"I can't climb down carrying you like this." Jim said. "You're going to have to get on my back."

Ariel nodded, but once Jim turned around, she bit her lip.

_Don't look down. _She thought. _Don't do it._

She clambered onto his back clumsily, clutching at him fiercely. His skin felt surprisingly soft beneath her arms and she felt herself calm down marginally.

"It would help if you wouldn't cut off my circulation." Jim said. He felt Ariel loosen her grip a little.

"That's better." He said in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.

Jim wrapped his arms and legs around a nearby beam and began to slowly—and rather painfully—make his way to the floor. Grinning, Quasimodo swung easily around Jim, sticking his tongue out at Jim as he did so. Jim could feel Ariel's silent laughter on his back as he finally touched the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

Several weeks would pass from this point, and during this time, Jim swiped a cot from the local marketplace—much to the chagrin of the honest Quasimodo—and hung it in the rafters for Ariel to sleep on.

"What are you shaking your head for?" Jim asked, looking at the oddly pale redhead. She had her hand cupped, holding the nails that Jim needed to secure her new bed.

'I'm afraid of heights. What if I fall?'

"Then grab a beam and hang on." Jim said roughly. "This is the only place Frollo won't come into contact with and he won't be able to see you from below. If you want to stay, you'll have to sleep here."

'But Jim—'

But Jim held out his hand and asked for a nail so briskly that she knew that arguing was pointless. She could always leave, she supposed, but it wasn't like she could go home. Besides, she wasn't an idiot—if she was to go out in Paris all alone and as vulnerable as she was, people would notice. And just like back home, some people would take advantage of that "weakness."

And there was Jim. He baffled her. He had selflessly come and saved her when all of Paris had turned their backs and run away; he had carried her laboriously through town, giving her his clothes so that she would be covered; and he had tucked her in when they finally reached the tower, he had placed her hand over his heart; all of these amazing, wonderful, truly delightful things—and now he was treating her like a burden. She just couldn't understand why.

'I'm lucky I'm pretty.' She mouthed as she looked down at her feet.

"What did you say?" Jim asked her, catching the movement of her lips from the corner of his eye.

Ariel raised her head to look at him.

'I didn't say it. You did. You said that I was lucky I was pretty. You wouldn't have helped me otherwise.'

Jim froze, his heart dropping to his knees.

"I-I didn't know that you were awake." He whispered.

'I was slipping in and out.'

"I'm sorry." Jim sighed. "That's not how I meant it."

'What else could it possibly mean?!' Ariel retorted, her temper beginning to get the better of her. He didn't _have _to take her in, but now that he had, he had better start treating her with some respect.

"It didn't mean anything at all!" Jim said, his voice lowering. "I—I was just frustrated and scared, Ariel. I didn't know what I was saying. And in all honesty, if you had snakes for hair and no eyebrows and four legs and crooked teeth—fuck, I still would have saved you. You're _somebody_, Ariel. That's all that matters."

The heat rose to Ariel's cheeks.

'Don't say things like that!' Ariel protested weakly. 'I'm trying to be mad at you.'

Jim chuckled and shook his head.

"You and the rest of the world."

'So, Jim, about the cot—'

"This is legitimately the only safe spot. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to deal with it." Jim interrupted. Ariel rolled her eyes. She was going to have a lot of issues navigating this boy's attitude.

They had a limp apple salad for dinner that night. Quasimodo and Jim were already sitting at the table by the time Ariel had managed to get down from the rafters. The whole gravity issue had her pretty shaken up. The idea of falling and severely hurting herself was a new and very frightening one. If she had started to fall under the sea, all she would have to do was re-angle herself upwards. But there were no second chances when you fall on the surface. It was a terrifying thought.

Ariel sat beside Jim, who grunted by way of greeting. She looked up at Quasimodo, who caught her eye and smiled warmly. He may not have been the most beautiful human being in the world, Ariel thought, but he had one of the best smiles she had ever seen. She smiled in return.

"We should say grace before we eat." Quasimodo said. Ariel felt puzzled by this human practice; they would each grab hands and one person would say some sort of mantra to a supposed food spirit before eating. She thought Jim would say something about it, for some reason, but he did not; he merely grabbed hers and Quasimodo's hands and bowed his head in silence. Ariel grabbed Quasi's other hand and hastily followed his lead.

"My Lord, we thank you for this bountiful meal that you have placed before us and for the new guest you have brought to our home. We hope that you watch over her as you do for us. We thank you for Master's kindness and understanding" –here Jim's hand squeezed Ariel's tightly—"for we don't know what we would have done without his generosities. And thank you for continuing to watch over us and for showing us a display of your power by destroying the devil's wave"—Ariel opened one eye and looked at Jim, who was peeking at her already. He shook his head slightly and closed his eyes again—"in Jesus' name I pray. Amen."

"Amen." Jim echoed. Their hands fell apart as Jim and Quasimodo turned hungrily to their food.

Ariel scrutinized the wares before her. One was a wooden bowl, haphazardly whittled with what she assumed was a very small knife; and the other was something that she couldn't believe she recognized.

'A dinglehopper!' she mouthed excitedly. Why a dinglehopper would be present at a meal, she had no idea. But she seized the opportunity to prove to herself that she was capable of surviving in this world.

She began to brush her hair eagerly, but froze when she spotted Quasimodo's and Jim's bewildered—and rather concerned—stares. She hastily put down the utensil and stared at her toes, wishing that she could disappear. Silently, Jim passed over his own fork while Quasimodo swiped hers and put it gingerly on a shelf. Quasimodo sat back down and put his fork to his mouth. Quietly, Ariel mimicked him.

For the rest of the dinner, Ariel used her fork correctly and Jim, she noticed with a twinge of guilt, was picking up his salad with his hands and munching on the leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, Ariel sat on her cot. She was hugging her knees tightly against her chest as she cried. She wanted to go home and see her sisters. She wanted her fin back and she wished that she had never realized a fear of heights. Her father had left her to rot in a world that she couldn't survive in, with a boy that she couldn't understand. It felt like her whole life was falling apart.

One of the beams behind her squeaked.

Ariel whirled around and would have fallen out of her cot if Quasimodo hadn't have caught her.

'Thanks.' She mouthed. Quasimodo smiled.

"Are you doing okay?" he asked her cautiously. "I heard sniffing…have you been crying?"

Ariel shook her head, hating herself as she did so.

"I know this tower is a lot to get used to." Quasimodo said softly. "But it's really not that bad…come with me, I'll show you."

Ariel shook her head and hugged herself tightly.

'I can't.' she mouthed. 'I'm scared of heights.'

"Come on," Quasimodo enticed. "You can't stay cooped up here forever."

Ariel sighed, unable to argue with him. She clambered onto his back and was surprised and rather pleased at how easily he moved—even with her added weight. He leapt higher and higher, dodging past the silent bells with relative ease. As he climbed, he told her the names that he had given them and the history behind each one. He described them as if they were alive and as if—Ariel realized sadly—they were some of his only friends.

"Now that you've met the ladies," Quasimodo said. "Would you like to meet the stars?"

Ariel nodded eagerly and silently screamed as Quasimodo jumped off of the beam they were on and catapulted from one to another.

Ariel felt slightly sick when they finally reached the ground. She slid off of his back and nearly fell onto the floor. Quasimodo caught her for the second time that night and supported her, smiling, as they walked out to the balcony.

Ariel was somewhat surprised to see Jim there. He was kneeling on the ledge, his head turned upwards. His eyes glowed in the starlight and a soft breeze ruffled his hair every which way. Despite his attitude and his odd ways, Ariel honestly thought that he looked beautiful.

"I'm sorry, Mom." Jim said suddenly. Ariel looked at Quasimodo, but he placed a finger to his lips. Frowning slightly, she turned back to look at the boy who saved her.

"I know I keep messing everything up and I know…that I let you down." He muttered. Tears were beginning to form around the edges of his eyes.

"You were always better than me, Mom. You had this big, generous heart and I just kinda…hated everyone. Can't say that I've changed much. But I feel like, lately I'm just—I'm losing this war. I can't kill the man who killed you"—Ariel sucked in a breath, her eyes wide—"and I can't forgive myself for not being able to. But I think I found another way to help you find peace. You see, I met this…girl. On the beach. Mom, this girl is my chance to make it all up to you. I thought maybe, if I keep her safe, then you'd be able to forgive me for not doing the same for you."

Ariel bit her lip and felt the tears begin to fall as Jim began to rub his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, his voice strained and emotional. "I'm so sorry."

Ariel moved to Jim's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and turned to look at her.

'Jim…' she began, but he had already clambered off of the ledge and shrugged off her hand. He stormed inside the tower and she followed him, reaching for one of his swinging hands.

She managed to grab his wrist. Jim didn't even pause before ripping himself from her grasp.

"Leave me alone!" he muttered and Ariel felt her heart breaking at his tone. This wasn't the bitter Jim she was used to. He sounded so scared and so hurt.

'Let me help you!' she mouthed, but Jim was already running out of the tower and along the walkway. She made to follow him, but her legs weren't as accustomed to the motion as Jim's were: she fell down within a few steps and silently cried out as splinters dug into her knees. Footsteps sounded behind her. Quasimodo lifted her to her feet and quietly began to dig the little splinters out.

"Jim just needs a little time." He told her softly, throwing one of her splinters over his shoulder.

But a little time, Ariel soon found out, was not little at all. Days passed and she managed to only catch glimpses of him. When Frollo would come for lunch, she would hide amongst the bells and watch and listen from above.

On one such occasion, on a particularly dim and overcast day, she got alarmingly close to the conversation. She crouched directly above Frollo, her eyes set on new, but decidedly odd, friends.

"I'm glad to see you've been practicing the alphabet, Quasimodo." Frollo said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. "And Jim! No outbursts at all! This is really quite the improvement."

Ariel smiled, waiting for Jim's retort, for a witty remark, for _something_, but he offered up none; if anything, he seemed to slip lower in his seat.

Frollo smiled and began to speak about his work with Quasimodo. Ariel was glad, for the first time ever, that she no longer had her voice: his acts of cruelty made her want to cry out.

"There was a rather haggard older woman who appeared before my court just yesterday." Frollo said. "Nasty thing. She stole a whole basket of food from one of the merchants and then had the gall to say that she was starving and poor and couldn't afford any of it! Yet when my guards and I arrived at her house to assess how poor she was, do you know what we found?"

"I don't know, sir." Quasimodo said politely.

"Guilders, my boy, guilders! There were so many that they were practically leaking out of the straw of her mattress. She stole the food out of greed."

"You planted it." Jim said sullenly.

There was a stiff silence as Frollo's lips curled.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"I said that you planted it." Jim said, rising to his feet. "You've done it before. You want to act like you're stopping crime and that you are the unsung hero of Paris, but you aren't. Instead of stopping actual crime, you're just forcing people into cells for doing little more than trying to survive!"

"Funny," Frollo said and from his tone Ariel gathered that it truly wasn't funny at all. "That Native American girl said the exact same thing during the interrogation I held yesterday."

"Native American girl?" Quasimodo asked. "Who is she, Master?"

"A woman named Pocahontas." Frollo sneered in response. He moved towards Jim. Ariel shivered as Frollo ran his fingers over the top of Jim's shoulders. Her movement, though imperceptibly slight, must have caught Jim's attention, because he was looking up at her now.

His eyes stayed locked with hers as Frollo began to accuse him of fraternizing with the prisoners. He did not make a sound as Frollo reached towards the wall and grabbed a small but heavy stone bust. All he did was look into Ariel's eyes.

'_Run!' _she mouthed.

But he didn't move.

Quasimodo leapt up the beams and grabbed her. They were lucky; every ounce of Frollo's concentration was going towards raising the bust. He did not notice Quasimodo's sudden disappearance.

'We have to help Jim!' Ariel mouthed, but Quasi couldn't see her face as he climbed higher and higher. They were halfway to the ceiling when the sound of the shattering bust filled the tower.

Ariel wanted to scream, but found that she could not. All she could do was watch Jim fall to the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim opened his eyes slowly.

There was a dull pounding in his head. _It's your own damn fault, _he thought aggressively,_ you should have run._

But he hadn't been able to: he had been petrified that if he moved, Frollo might have inexplicably glanced up and seen Ariel lying on the beam directly above them. She hadn't been well-concealed at all; it was a wonder it had taken him so long to spot her.

He suddenly became aware of a gentle weight on his hand.

Ariel was beside him, wearing the blue day dress that he had stolen for her. She had fallen asleep in a sitting position, her back pressed to the wall. Her head was drooped forward and mostly covered by her long red hair. Her hand was holding onto Jim's, its delicate weight somehow making him feel lighter than usual.

"Ariel?" he whispered. He squeezed her hand. He was, for some odd reason, filled with the pressing need of apologizing to her.

She opened her eyes blearily and turned to Jim.

'You're okay.' She said sleepily.

"Yeah, I think so." He replied. "Sorry I haven't been talking to you for a while."

'It's okay.'

"No, it's not. I just—I don't like people seeing and knowing about what happened. I have to deal with it on my own, okay?"

'You don't _have_ to do anything.' Ariel hummed softly. She laid down next to him, choosing to rest her head on his chest.

"I know, but this is something I _want_ to do on my own, you know?" Jim said, running his free hand softly over her hair.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes slightly misted over.

'Are you okay with me lying like this?' she asked. 'I know you don't like being touched.'

"Who told you that?" Jim asked.

'Quasimodo.'

Jim snorted.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Ariel." Jim murmured. "I love contact. Hugs, hand-holding, shoulder touches…you name it, I like it. The thing is, I do come off as not liking it because I—well, I don't feel like I deserve it. So I lash out."

'So why aren't you lashing out now?'

"For crying out loud, I just got a fucking bust tossed against my head. I'm not in the mood to do much of anything except lay here and talk to you."

Ariel giggled.

"So what was it like, being a mermaid?" Jim asked her. "Did you drown any sailors?"

'What?! No!' Ariel cried out. 'Mermaids don't drown sailors! If we go to them at all, we either make sure they get to land safely or…'

"Or what?" Jim tilted his head to gaze at her.

'We make sure they don't die alone.'

There was a small pause.

"Would you do that for me and Quasimodo?" Jim asked suddenly.

'What?'

"Well, I always wanted to become a sailor and I obviously want to leave this tower." Jim said softly. "And it goes without saying that I'd take Quasimodo with me. But if something were to happen while we were on that boat—would you make sure we wouldn't go out on our own?"

'If I was still a mermaid, I would.' She nodded, squeezing Jim's hand.

'Get some sleep.' She said after a while. 'Unless it's a concussion. Then don't sleep.'

Jim snorted.

"Frollo's weak old man arms couldn't give me a concussion, even with a fucking bust added. It just feels like one hell of a headache. I'm fine, really."

Ariel laughed.

'Then rest. You need it.'

"YOU LET HIM GO TO SLEEP?!"

'He said that he didn't have a concussion—'

"Ariel, listen to me." Quasimodo said, wringing his hands. "Did Jim seem…different than usual?"

Ariel scrunched her nose as she thought about it.

'Not really. I mean, he did let me put my head on his chest and hold his hand and he was stroking my hair and—'

"How is that normal? That is not something Jim does! Think about it!"

'Oh no.' Ariel muttered, realization dawning on her.

"See, when you get a concussion," Quasimodo explained, desperately splashing water in Jim's face to wake him up. "There's a lot more involved than the 'I-really-should-stay-awake' thing. People act contrary to their natures when they have a concussion. Jim is NOT a cuddly teddy bear. He does not like warm hugs, he's disgusted by displays of affection, he's—"

'No, he's not!' Ariel argued. 'He just feels like he doesn't deserve any of it!'

"What gave you that idea?!"

'He TOLD me, Quasi!'

"He told you that when he wasn't in his right mind!" Quasimodo said firmly. "Ariel, listen to me. Bring me another bowl of water and be quick—we might be able to wake him up yet."

Ariel ran into the kitchen, yanked a bowl off of the shelf and dipped it into a bucket of water. The whole time she felt like sobbing. Of course Jim had been concussed, how could she be so stupid? To think that _she_ had thought that he had just been too tired to pretend to hate her, that she had thought, however briefly, that maybe it hadn't been a coincidence that Jim had saved her. That maybe he could be…

Ariel shook her head, refusing to let the thought complete itself. She walked carefully back to Quasimodo, mindful of the sloshing water in the bowl.

"Thank you, Ariel." Quasimodo said, relieved. He reached for the bowl and Ariel handed it over.

"Yeah, thanks." A voice growled. "I feel like I've been dipped in a sewer."

Jim slowly turned his head to look at her. While she was glad that he was awake, she did not appreciate this. She put her hands on her hips.

'It's a shame we didn't think to do that before.' She mouthed off. She was expecting an angry retort, but Jim just laughed.

"As if I don't smell bad enough already." He said, rolling his eyes. He gave her a little wink before drinking out of the bowl.

Ariel hated herself for laughing.

The girl was giggling again.

Jim did his best to ignore her, which was much harder than he thought it would be. Silent laughter should be the easiest thing to overlook, but for some reason, she demanded his attention. He chopped onions in relative silence, feeling her waves of laughter washing over him. Quasimodo smiled at him, but all Jim could give him was a shrug in return. Quasimodo moved to one of the arches and reached out his arm: raindrops fell heavy and thick onto his skin.

Though his head still ached mightily, Jim's predicament had improved. He was no longer fighting off sleep and he was wide-eyed and alert and back to his normal self, which, Quasimodo noted with a grimace, wasn't truly that likeable.

"Hey, do me a favor." Jim called to him. "Can you rinse our forks off in the rain? She's been using them as brushes again."

"Why does she do that?" Quasimodo asked, taking the forks from beside Jim and moving back to his perch. "You think it's like a cultural thing?"

"Maybe. I just wish she'd quit it."

"So talk to her about it." Quasimodo suggested, running his fingers over the forks' tongs.

"I shouldn't have to." Jim growled. Quasimodo gave him a questioning look before handing the forks back over.

"Why did you bring her back here to live with us if you aren't going to talk to her?" he asked quietly. Jim opened his mouth to retort, but Quasi had already lifted himself up into the beams and was conversing with the bells. Jim snorted in frustration and returned to his chopping.

"I talk to her all the time." He muttered under his breath. His knife made sharper and louder noises as he continued to mumble.

"It's not like I don't try, anyways. I mean, I did go through a few days without—but that was a few days, that's it!"

_Yeah,_ Jim's conscience conceded, _but she hasn't really been here that long has she? Like, two months?_

And there were all of those instances when he wasn't even mad and just didn't talk to her. Jim's stomach lurched. If it hadn't been for Quasimodo, she would have been so severely neglected…he was always sneaking out to town or roaming the church. Anything and everything he could do to get away from this depressing tower.

He should take her with him to town, he mused. She saved the city, after all; she might as well have the privilege to see it.

Jim's stomach settled.

_There. _His conscience soothed._ Just don't be so rude again. Maybe then, your mother's face won't haunt you._

Jim wiped his eyes and instantly—and rather defensively—blamed the onions for the moisture left on his arm. He let out an inaudible growl before stopping, the hairs on his neck standing up.

She was right behind him.

He didn't know how he could tell: perhaps it was the smell of saltwater that was suddenly enticing him or maybe it was the immediate tension he felt in his bones when she moved up to him.

"Hey Ariel," he sighed.

Ariel peeked over his shoulder and pointed at the well-chopped onions.

"They're onions. Have you never seen them before?"

Ariel shook her head.

"They're good, trust me. They—hey!" Jim yelped, slapping Ariel's hand. She had picked up a whole handful and was going to put it in her mouth. Ariel looked at him, wide-eyed and hurt.

"They're for seasoning only." He muttered, feeling guilty but not particularly inclined to show it. He shoveled the dropped onion pieces back into a pile, avoiding her gaze.

Ariel moved away from him and stood by a gargoyle that Quasimodo had lovingly nicknamed Laverne. Jim ignored her—that is, until he heard a sniffle.

"Shit." Jim murmured, looking over his shoulder. Ariel had her back turned to him and was massaging her hand.

Sighing, Jim put down his chopping knife and moved towards her.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but trust me, you didn't want to eat that stuff like that." Jim whispered. He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder, but withdrew it before she could notice.

Ariel turned towards him, nodding slightly in understanding.

'I wasn't expecting it. You didn't hurt me.' She mouthed.

"Are you sure?"

"You're horrible at apologizing." Quasimodo called from the rafters.

"You know what I'm—I'm working on it!" Jim fumed, his very recent conversation with himself still playing through his mind.

She was giggling again. It took everything Jim had not to smile.

Quasimodo leapt from his perch and landed right next to them. Ariel jumped, startled, but Jim didn't bat an eye.

"You apologize like this." Quasimodo said. He grabbed Ariel's hand and dropped to his knees.

"I never meant to hurt you." Quasimodo began, tossing his bangs frivolously in a horrible impersonation of Jim. Ariel was biting her lip to keep herself from laughing. Jim merely rolled his eyes.

"Truth is, I care about you Ariel, but I'm such a big jerk that I don't know how to show it." Quasi continued. "But I promise I will never, ever hurt you again. I am so sorry."

"I am not a jerk." Jim muttered, returning to preparing dinner. Quasimodo laughed in response and walked downstairs, beckoning to Ariel to join him. Before she left, she placed a small, warm hand on Jim's shoulder. He felt himself freeze underneath her fingertips. He knew she was mouthing something behind his back, but he didn't know what. He allowed her touch to linger there for a couple of seconds before shrugging her off and giving her a mumbled "thanks." He turned his head in time to see a portion of her smile before she followed Quasimodo clumsily down the stairs, gripping the handrail like her life depended on it.

Jim smiled slightly. Considering how clumsy she was, it probably did.

Later that night, Ariel headed towards her cot, hidden expertly behind the bells so that Quasimodo and Jim's 'master' wouldn't know she was there. The taste of Jim's roasted potatoes—with the onions added tenderly to the skins—still lingered in her mouth and it was with a smile that she prepared to make her cot.

To her surprise, she found her bed already made and a beautiful, painted wooden statuette placed carefully on her pillow. Smiling, she looked at it. It was a carving of her and Ariel had to admit that Quasimodo was incredibly talented. She had, of course, stumbled upon Quasimodo's collection her second night in the tower. But this piece, the one he most assuredly made for her, was his most beautiful work. Her eyes were exactly the right tint of deep ocean blue and her hair was a beautiful cherry red. He had carved her wearing a beautiful powder blue dress that she swore sparkled when she turned it in the candle-light. Her little statuette was dancing—_dancing! _How had he known about her fascination with the subject?-and smiling widely.

Unable to conceal a smile herself, Ariel snuggled with her gift and was soon fast asleep.

From the shadows behind her, Jim quietly wiped the last of the wood shavings from his pants before carefully climbing down from the rafters, Quasimodo's carving knife held securely in between his teeth.

"And what am I supposed to say when she tells me thank you for something I didn't make?" Quasimodo asked the second Jim dropped back down on the floor. Jim took the knife out of his mouth.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jim said, blushing. He hurriedly placed the knife back on the table. Quasimodo smiled.

"Rrrright." He said, winking. "Shame that Ariel won't know that Jerky McJerk Face actually has a heart."

"It's best that way." Jim said hesitantly. "I don't want her to get hurt, like…like my mom did."

Quasimodo fell silent.

"I'm going to sleep." He said finally, awkwardly patting Jim on the shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Jim muttered. "Night."

For a solid hour, Jim stayed there, staring out at the stars, the last memories of his mother playing through his head. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what life had been like before they let those damned gypsies in. Jim knew he smiled easier and laughed more sincerely back then. He could also, vaguely, remember the sound of his mother's chuckle and the happy clink of wine glasses that could be heard all throughout the night.

He opened his eyes and he felt the tears he had been holding in finally fall to the ground.

He found himself climbing back into the rafters and sitting next to Ariel's cot. There were loose strands of hair in her face and he cautiously moved them away, sighing in relief when she didn't react to his touch.

"I made you the doll." He whispered. "Quasimodo was right, I can't apologize, I'm horrible. So I, uh, thought…well, I thought you'd like it. I'm sorry."

Jim blushed as he lowered himself out of Ariel's sight for the last time that night. When he finally did clamber into bed, the sun was already beginning to rise. Ariel's smile and the smell of his mother's old inn haunted his dreams.


End file.
